sparks fly
by a.lakewood
Summary: Stiles is the only one to return to Beacon Hills for summer break. He intends to spend the holiday of the Fourth alone, but a call from Derek changes his plans. Derek takes Stiles to the scenic overlook in the preserve so they can watch the fireworks together and it's totally a date, isn't it? They talk about life and Derek gives him peanut butter cups. And Stiles kisses him.


Stiles closes up the little book shop at five, per Mrs. Hobson's instruction. Because it's a holiday – the Fourth of July – she's letting him leave three whole hours early. He's spent every summer home from college stocking shelves and working the register at Beacon Hills' only book store, but this is the first year where he's the only one that's come back. Scott and Kira have become actual adults with legit jobs and an apartment in San Francisco, where Liam is also going to school, while Lydia's doing a summer internship at the Langley Research Center for NASA on the other side of the country. Isaac came back briefly after they graduated high school, but relocated to Los Angeles, but he still keeps in touch – usually with Scott, but Stiles knows he's called Derek a couple of times, too. Malia's living with a were-coyote pack somewhere in Arizona last he knew.

So Stiles is getting off work three hours early to go home to an empty house because his dad's working the overnight. Any holiday that puts people in close proximity with alcohol and things that explode is a situation that requires all possible hands on deck at the Sheriff's Office. Which is where Derek's likely to be as well.

Except, an hour later as Stiles is reheating last night's Chinese leftovers, his phone rings a tune that's familiar even if he hasn't heard it in months. He hesitates so long in answering that the chorus to "Walking on Sunshine" repeats. Yeah, he should probably change that to something a little less mocking and annoying.

"Hello?" Stiles says, pressing the phone to his ear as he drops into a chair at the table.

"Hey. It's Derek."

Stiles smirks. "I know. What's up?"

"Nothing, really." He pauses. "Are you doing anything later?"

"Later, like, when?"

"A couple hours from now."

"Uh, nope. I'm free. Why? Aren't you patrolling with Dad?"

"He gave me the night off."

"That was awfully nice of him."

"Yeah. It was. So..."

"Oh! Yeah. Yes, I'm free. What's going on?"

"Just be ready at eight."

"Uh, Derek?"

"I'll see you soon."

"Derek? Derek." But Derek doesn't answer because the line's dead. Stiles can't believe Derek hung up on him. And what the heck are they doing later? Did Derek just ask him out on a date? Because it kind of sounds like Derek just asked him out. Stiles slouches down in his seat. "What? No."

He scarfs down the last of the chicken fried rice and goes upstairs to shower and change before Derek arrives. He wants to look presentable in case this actually is a date. Which it probably isn't. But could be.

Stiles is ready and waiting, pacing the the front hall, when he hears Derek's truck pull into the driveway. Well. Here goes nothing.

He climbs into the passenger's seat of the truck and turns to Derek. "Hi."

"Hi," Derek says. "How was work?"

They look at each other, the moment somewhat awkward in the casual way Derek asks the question. They've only spoken twice so far this summer, seen each other a handful of times. "Slow," Stiles tells him. "Got about halfway through that new Patterson book."

Derek nods, slinging an arm around the back of Stiles' seat to look behind him as he backs out of the driveway.

They drive is silence for a while, heading towards the preserve, before Stiles speaks again. "So, uh, where are we going?"

"Up to the preserve," Derek tells the windshield.

"Yeah. I kind of figured. Why?"

"To watch the fireworks from the bluff."

Well, that's not quite what Stiles was expecting. "Oh. That's cool."

"Yeah. It's the best view in town."

"I bet."

"My family – we used to watch them there when I was kid." Derek finally glances over at him. "I haven't seen them in years."

This suddenly seems like a much bigger deal than it had before. It was one kind of intimidating if it was a maybe-date. But now Derek's sharing something with him that he hasn't done since before his family died. This is important. He reaches over and loosely grabs hold of Derek's wrist. "Thanks. For inviting me. I haven't watched them in a while, either."

Derek smiles. "You're welcome."

The scenic overlook Derek leads Stiles to is familiar. It's not far from where they'd brought Jackson all those years ago when they stole the Sheriff Department's transport van in an attempt to keep the kanima from hurting anybody else. And, if Stiles remembers correctly, it's where Scott and Allison used to meet up for their illicit rendezvous. He hasn't been in the preserve, much less this deep into it, in years.

Derek leaves Stiles near a huge limestone rock to return to his truck only to come back with a blanket draped over one arm and a reusable canvas grocery bag – because _of course_ – in his other hand. Stiles does an internal flail because this is totally a date. This is practically a picnic. If only Derek were carrying a wicker picnic basket.

"Uh... here," Stiles says, reaching for the blanket. "Let me."

Derek hands the blanket over, stands back as Stiles carefully lays it out on the grass not far from the limestone rock, quite a distance back from the edge of the bluff. Really, there should be some kind of guardrail up here – it's a long, long way down if the look of the town with all it's tiny, twinkling streetlights is anything to go by. Stiles sits down and watches as Derek settles beside him with the canvas bag in his lap. He pulls a couple bottles of water from it as well as a crinkly package that he tosses at Stiles.

Stiles' flail is anything but internal as he fumbles to catch the package of what turns out to be Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. He ducks his head, attempting to hide his smile, as he tears open the end of the wrapper. "Thanks."

Derek moves the bag to his other side and bumps his shoulder into Stiles' when he turns back around. "You're welcome."

Stiles watches him twist the lid off his bottle of water before taking a long drink and it has Stiles looking away, the long silhouette of Derek's throat working in the hazy dimness of night that never gets truly dark because of the town's light pollution. He busies himself with his candy, chocolate melting on his fingers as he peels back the paper cup and takes a bite.

"So," Derek says after a few long moments of silence filled with nothing but the buzzing of insects and the quiet scritch of small animals in the woods behind them. "Have you figured out what you want to do after you graduate?"

"Well, depending on whether or not I qualify for any kind of financial aid, I'd like to get into the graduate program and get my Masters in History. I'll have my Bachelor's in Education after this year, but I want to teach."

"That's what I was studying," Derek says with a soft smile, clarifying, "history. Before I followed Laura back."

It's still weird to think how Derek had this whole other life that he was piecing back together after the fire before he returned to Beacon Hills. "I don't think I knew that," Stiles says, trying not to sound surprised because, really, he shouldn't be. "Were you going to teach, or...?"

"I don't know. When we got the insurance money, Laura didn't know what to do with it besides making sure Peter had the best care he could get, then she enrolled in NYU, helped me get my GED before making me apply to colleges. I followed her to NYU because it was just easier to be together then. And I'd always been good at history, so." Derek shrugs. "I'd always been fascinated by it, especially my family's own. The supernatural community isn't all that small, but it's very secretive. It was interesting to learn the human perspective especially when they didn't always have all the facts."

Stiles perks up at that and leans further into Derek's space. "What does _that_ mean?"

Derek grins this devastating grin that has Stiles' stomach flipping and making him wish there was something stronger than water in his bottle. He shakes his head and says, "Just that certain things were omitted. You know how they say 'history is written by the victors'? It's more than the losing side's version of events that isn't told."

Well, that would certainly make history a lot more interesting. He's about to ask what historical figures were werewolves when Derek turns to face the southwest. "They're starting."

Sure enough, a faint orange glow trails a gray arc up into the sky to the south before exploding in a shimmering gold palm effect. Another immediately follows, sizzling red and orange over Beacon Hills. The whole display lasts somewhere around half an hour, ending with an impressive finale and a bright ground-show. Even Stiles can hear the whistles and cheers faintly on the wind as a breeze carries the sound of commendations and the scent of the pyrotechnics towards them.

Beside him, Derek makes no move to get up, just turns towards Stiles with that same soft smile from earlier. "What did you think?"

"I think this was perfect. Thanks for inviting me."

"You're welcome."

Polite, genuine, _smiling_ Derek does something to Stiles. Makes him stupid and maybe kind of reckless because, what if he's reading this all wrong? But Derek bought him Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and brought him up to the place he used to watch the fireworks with his family and it _has to mean something._ Doesn't it? Stiles is taking a deep, fortifying his breath, steeling his nerves and he leans across the short distance between them and places a slightly off-center kiss to Derek's lips. It's just an abrupt press of lips until Derek leans into him with a bit more force, tilting his head until their mouths are better aligned. Then Derek's tongue is teasing at the seam of Stiles' lips and Stiles is opening his mouth, moaning as Derek's questing tongue is slipping inside along his own. He chases after Derek's mouth when he starts to pull away, making a sound of protest for being denied.

Derek laughs, gives him little pecking kisses as he cups Stiles' cheek. "I'm really glad you're here."

Stiles nods enthusiastically, wanting nothing more than to get Derek's mouth back on his. "Me, too. _So_ glad I'm here. And that you're here. With me. Together."

Derek laughs again and it's the happiest, the lightest, Stiles can ever remember Derek sounding. He smiles and pulls Stiles in for another kiss.

And, oh. Yeah. Yep. This is _definitely_ something Stiles could get used to. Like all day, every day, for the rest of his life. But, well, he probably shouldn't tell Derek that at least until they're, like, official or something. Because they're totally going to be boyfriends and Stiles can finally change his Facebook status from _Single_ to _In a Relationship_ and it's going to be with Derek Hale. And he's totally going to make Derek get a Facebook page because this isn't the 90s and Derek needs to get with the times. They're going to have so many ridiculous couply Instagram photos and-

"_Stiles_," Derek growls exasperatedly against Stiles' lips. "Stop thinking and _kiss me._"

How can he say no to that?


End file.
